


Desert Pixies Made Us Do It

by nomelon



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Curses, Desert, Kissing, M/M, Silly, Smut, Snark, Tent Sex, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel and Spike in the desert. Spike finds himself in a spot of bother and turns to Angel for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert Pixies Made Us Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Could be post NFA if you squint, but could really fit in at any point in the Buffyverse. An interlude, if you will.

Spike barged into Angel's tent like he owned the place, all wide eyes and grand expectations.

"Angel. Just the man. Take your trousers off."

Angel sprayed a mouthful of blood, splattering the front of Spike's t-shirt.

"Great," Spike said, looking down at himself in disgust. "Now I'm going to smell like yesterday's breakfast." He executed a little eye-roll, conveying admirably how bloody typical this kind of behaviour was of Angel, but then, rather disturbingly, simply pulled the shirt over his head with an air of inevitability.

"What are you doing?" Angel said, frozen in place with blood running down his chin.

"I need a little favour."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"Safe to say I don't want to know."

"I need a shag."

"Spike!" Angel yelped. He just wished it had come out sounding a little less scandalised.

"It's just a shag. Christ. It's not like it's any skin off your nose. A shag is all. I need one."

"Don't we all," Angel muttered. "The answer's still no."

"It's no big deal. Fifteen minutes, tops. Bit of vigorous rumpy pumpy, then I'm out of your hair."

"No," Angel said, finally regaining his powers of locomotion, wiping the blood off his chin and putting a little space between the two of them. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Would that I had," Spike grumbled, but he advanced again, determined. "Can't you just help a bloke out without all the dramatics?"

"Spike," Angel said, as calmly as he was able, "I am not having sex with you."

"I thought you'd be well up for it, metaphorically speaking. What's the problem?"

"My problem? You come bursting in here -- into _my_ tent -- and you demand... you demand..." Angel gestured a little frantically with his hand, because there were simply no words to fill that void.

"Yes, yes," Spike said. "I demand your help. Some bloody useless lunk of a sire you are. You won't even help me out in a pinch. You know if the tables were turned I'd see you right."

"What tables?"

"Hmm?" Spike looked up with disarmingly wide eyes, his fingers busy with undoing the buttons of Angel's shirt.

Angel batted his hands away and scrambled back a few paces. "There are no tables!" he said, not liking the hysterical edge to his words.

"Oh, there are tables."

"Why don't you tell me about the tab--" Angel closed his eyes and let out a little breath, just trying to get his bearings. "What the hell is going on?"

"Snothing."

Angel opened his eyes and gave Spike the full benefit of his total and utter contempt.

"It's _nothing_."

Angel drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms across his chest.

"Okay." Spike pushed back his shoulders uncomfortably. "Don't laugh."

Angel blinked. "Why would I laugh?"

"Because if it happened to you I'd be pissing myself, that's why."

For the first time since Spike had barged into his tent, Angel began to see a glimmer of something other than panicked anger. "Try me."

"Fine." Spike narrowed his eyes, pointed his finger right at Angel, and was so tense you could see the clench of every muscle in his torso. If you happened to be looking. Which Angel most definitely wasn't. Most definitely. "But if you laugh, I'll... I'll..."

"Rescind your disturbing and badly executed offer of casual sex?"

"Punch you on the nose," Spike said. "Very hard."

Angel waited for his answer. Spike took a breath, his jaw clenched, his lips a terse white line. Angel waited him out, enjoying the moment.

"Desert pixies," Spike said.

Three things happened in quick succession.

Angel burst out laughing.

Spike punched him on the nose. Very hard.

Angel punched him right back.

They both stood their, holding their noses, Spike scowling over his cupped hands, Angel still looking mightily amused.

"You are such a twat," Spike said, his voice reverberating a little behind his hands. "You are aware of that fact, right?"

"Desert pixies?"

"Look, I was bored, all right?" Spike said, checking his nose for blood, but his fingers came away clean. "This is a stupid mission and I'm tired of being cooped up in my tent all day long waiting for the eighteen solid hours of sunlight to end only to have to trek all over the bloody desert at night looking for this apparition of yours. And have I mentioned how the sand gets _everywhere_?"

"Only about a _million_ times. And, yet again, it's not an apparition; it's an oracle trapped in non-corporeal form. Should give you a little common ground at least. So get to the part about the desert pixies?"

Spike huffed. "The nomads had a game set up. It's a bit like polo, 'cept the horses are those camel things and the ball's a dead sheep."

"Sounds... nice."

"There was lots of betting going on, so I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring. I mean, how hard could it be, right?"

"Pretty hard?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. I lost, and lost, and lost some more. Still haven't got the first clue what the rules actually are. Got the distinct impression they just made them up as they went along. I mean, come on, have you ever tried hefting a dead sheep? It's unwieldy to say the least."

"This is all very interesting, but what's it got to do with why you're here?"

"Well, I lost the bet."

"So?"

"So, I couldn't pay up. I'm no welsher, but you know they don't use money. Got no use for it. And I'm a little lacking in the local currency."

Angel nodded. Spike was many things, but the owner of a herd of the demonic goats used for trading in this dimension was not one of them.

"When it came time to pay the opposing team--"

"The desert pixies?" Angel grinned.

"Shuddup. You stick one of those little bastards on the back of a camel and they're hell on wheels. They're light, see, so they have a natural advantage."

"Fascinating."

"Anyway, when it came time to pay, I couldn't. So they hexed me."

"A hex." Angel shook his head slowly. "Only you could travel to another dimension and get hexed by desert pixies inside the first three days."

"What can I say? I'm lucky like that. Now take your trousers off."

"What can I say? No."

"Angel," Spike growled. "I have to perform the rite of rebirth before sun up or I'm dust."

"The rite of rebirth?"

"Shagging. Word is it's a big part of most rituals in these parts."

"Ah. And it doesn't have to be with a woman?"

"Apparently not. Any port in a storm. I asked the nomads; they're up on all the pixie mumbo jumbo. Seemed to find the whole thing a little too bloody amusing for my liking. Still, too late now. So," he said brightly and clapped his hands together, "it looks like it's your lucky day."

"Much as I'd like to help... I'm not going to. Can't you find somebody else?"

"Who?! Who the hell's going to agree to a bit of how's your father in the next few hours? I mean, I'm good, but 'shag me or I'm going to explode, balls first' isn't exactly the best chat up line in the world."

"Come on. Little thing like a deadline? Should just make things more interesting."

"All right then. Who, within a radius of fifty miles, isn't a festering, hunchbacked nomad, a demonic camel, or a dead sheep?"

Angel had to admit that he might just have a point. "That doesn't mean--"

"Whatever you're about to say, I'd still rather take my chances with you than trying to seduce one of the smelly nomads before sun up. I do have some standards about where I stick my willy."

"Hey! There will be no sticking of willies! Anywhere!"

"Come on now," Spike said, a good deal more acquiescent than Angel had been expecting, "you know how this works. Somebody's going to have to stick one somewhere." He gave an easy little shrug. "Not sex otherwise."

Angel had to give it to him. No matter how acrimonious their relationship, no matter how potent the animosity was between them, Spike seemed able to rise above it. All it took was a simple amused curl of his lip, a little glance from under his lashes, and all at once Spike looked like pure, undiluted sex; all dark eyes and illicit promise.

Angel started to breathe. "You could always try one of the camels."

Spike glowered, but managed to curtail it into more of a smoulder. The effect wasn't lost on Angel, who swallowed heavily.

"You know as well as I do that they're not real camels," Spike was saying, inching his way into Angel's personal space. "They're dirty great big slobbering demon mule things. With humps."

"So you did consider it, then?"

"Before coming to you? Hell, yes, I considered it."

"I'm touched."

"In the head, maybe."

"You really think this is the best way to go about seducing me?"

"No," Spike said, running his hand up Angel's thigh. "This is."

Angel gritted his teeth. Damn Spike. Damn him. He always knew exactly what buttons to--

"_Oh_," Angel sighed as Spike's hand reached the Promised Land.

"Been a while, eh?" Spike asked softly.

"Some," Angel admitted, wishing there was more furniture around. A handy table, a chair, just something solid, something he could get his hands on and _grip_. Something that wasn't Spike.

Spike tilted his head and pouted his lips, stepping in closer. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Fine. _Fine_. But no kiss--"

He was cut off by Spike's tongue in his mouth. He could _feel_ Spike's triumphant grin, the bastard, but couldn't do a damn thing to stop the shudder that rolled through him and the way that his hand came up to fist in the short hair on the back of Spike's head, holding him there. Just holding him.

"Come on, come on," Spike murmured against his lips, divesting Angel of his shirt. "Sun's coming up soon."

"That's hours away. I thought you only needed fifteen minutes."

"If you believe that then your memory's playing tricks on you."

"That's..." A memory of the long, almost forgotten past reared its head. A dark night, his belly full of expensive whisky and cheap blood. William lying at his side, eager and newly turned, naked and bold, laughing even as Angelus rolled with him, toyed with him, called him a deviant. "That's dirty pool."

"Is not. It's just been a while, that's all. I'm starting to think you've got something to hide." Spike squeezed Angel through his pants. "The soul didn't make it shrink, did it?"

Angel growled and gave up on letting Spike lead the way. One well-placed shove in the middle of Spike's chest and Spike was sprawled on the cushions at his feet. Angel looked down at him and smiled a wicked little smile that Angelus would have worn with ease. He popped open the top button of his fly and didn't miss the quick dart of Spike's tongue over his lips.

"Take your clothes off," he said, and was gratified when Spike moved to obey. Spike leaned back on the cushions and fished something from his pocket before wriggling out of his jeans. He tossed the something to Angel who caught it in his fist.

It was a small tube of half-empty lube.

Angel stared at it in disbelief. "You brought _this_ with you? Offerings for the oracle and travelling essentials _only_ to be brought through the portal, and you brought _this_?"

Spike settled back on the cushions, tucked his hands behind his head, crossed his ankles and looked more smug than he had any right to. "Hey. Be prepared, right?" He was the very picture of nonchalance, or at least he would have been, if it hadn't been for the greedy gleam in his eyes and the very interested erection he was sporting.

"Prepared. Right." Angel tossed the tube onto the cushions beside Spike and shoved his pants and his underwear down and off. Spike seemed to lose patience at this point and aimed a swift almost-kick at the back of Angel's knee, catching him with the arch of his foot, and landing Angel with a pained "whooof" on the cushions beside him. Grinning like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Spike rolled on top of him and insinuated himself between Angel's thighs.

"Oh-ho no," Angel said, dodging impatient kisses and grabbing Spike's upper arms. "Just hold your horses."

Spike leered down at him. "It's not my horse I want to hold."

"We can fight about this all night if you want." Angel rolled them so Spike was underneath him and held him still. "You're the one with the deadline."

Spike opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to realise that Angel had the upper hand. He snapped his mouth shut again. "Fine." He turned his back and lifted a knee to his chest. "Off you go. Have a blast."

Angel rolled his eyes, but moved in close. "Do you always have to be such a baby?" he asked, his lips against the patch of skin in behind Spike's ear. "I never met anyone who could sulk like you when the mood was on them."

"I'm not sulking!" Spike snapped, looking back over his shoulder, his eyes flashing. "I can't believe that you're even--" His litany choked off when Angel closed his hand over Spike's hard cock and squeezed.

"Hush," Angel said, and bit down on Spike's shoulder with blunt teeth.

"I will not," Spike said, but his voice was breathless and a little shaky. "I can't believe you'd--" Angel skimmed a hand down Spike's spine, reached the curve of his ass and kept going south. "I can't believe you'd--" Spike's eyes fluttered closed. He bit on his lower lip as Angel's fingers circled, teasing, and slipped inside. Angel allowed himself a haughty little smile as he watched Spike's frown of concentration and felt Spike's slim hips press back against his hand.

Angel smiled as he continued to suck little love bites on Spike's throat and shoulder. "You like that?"

"No," Spike said, his body arching back. "No. Bastard. You bastard. Fuck."

Angel rolled them so that Spike was on his knees in front of him. For the first time the realisation of what they were about to do hit Angel, and his body woke up and really started to pay attention. Spike was on his _knees_, open and willing and this was really going to happen. He was about to fuck Spike.

He scrabbled for the lube and squeezed out a generous amount into his hand, slicking himself up and pushing more of the lube into Spike's body, the little needy sounds coming from Spike making his cock twitch impatiently. With one palm laid flat on the small of Spike's back, he lined himself up and eased inside, just the head. Spike's hands closed into fists on the cushions, the stupid silver chain he wore around his neck swinging free. Angel took hold of his hips, his thumbs sliding in the sweat on Spike's lower back.

One long, slow, slick push and he was inside.

Spike reached back and grabbed Angel's thigh, sudden as a slap, holding Angel still. "Wait. Wait."

"Been a while?" Angel asked, not sounding nearly as flippant as he'd intended.

"Some," Spike admitted with a pained little chuckle.

Angel pulled out, maybe an inch, and pushed back in. Even that was almost too much and he bit at his lip hard enough to bruise. "Spike," he said in a growled little whisper, but it came out as a plea. They both heard it. It was pointless to try and play it off as anything less. The muscles in Spike's back bunched as he rose up, practically sitting in Angel's lap, taking him in deep as Spike twisted around for a hungry kiss, raising his hand to the back of Angel's head.

"Ponce," Spike muttered against his lips.

"Guttersnipe," Angel returned with a smile, finding it rather difficult to take umbrage considering their position.

"We gonna dance around this all night or were you thinking of getting around to fucking me any time soon?" Spike asked, all dusky-voiced and kohl-smudged eyes.

Angel jerked his hips by way of reply, and Spike's mouth formed a soundless little o of pleasure, his hand dropping from Angel's head, utterly useless. Angel held him up, kept him close, fucked him that way, spreading his thighs and taking him deep. He started giving Spike the full length on every thrust, using Spike's weight to their mutual advantage. He could feel it building, coming close, rising like floodwater, and he gasped and shook, bit down on the patch of skin where Spike's shoulder became throat, just sitting so tempting and pretty inches from his mouth, Spike's body shuddering and milking him dry.

His cheek was pressed to the line of Spike's jaw and he couldn't see Spike's face as he drew out slowly, but he heard Spike's hiss of loss. He fell back on the cushions, his muscles singing. Spike was crawling all over him before he had time to draw a breath, touching and muttering, eager and naked and bold, the little deviant, using Angel's own come and more of the lube to slick himself up, to push clever, questing fingers inside Angel's uncomplaining body. Angel couldn't find it within himself to mind. They'd never done this before, not with Angel on the receiving end, but if you couldn't share a few new tricks with an old friend when you're looking for an old oracle in a new dimension, when the hell could you?

Spike was murmuring soft, sweet, filthy little things as he pushed forward, telling Angel to relax, to open up, how much he wanted it, how good it felt, and Angel didn't stop him, because damned if he didn't want it too. It burned and stretched and hurt, but then Spike was all the way inside him, watching his face closely, waiting for a sign, maybe, and there must have been something in Angel's face that looked like a green light, because Spike hooked one thigh up over his arm, pulled Angel closer and started to move. He took it slow at first, like he was being careful, his body trembling as he held back. Angel grunted, impatient, and twisted his body _up_. Spike took it like a punch in the stomach. He stuttered and lost the rhythm for a second, but surged forward again, his body curved over Angel, his hips working fast and easy. He slid in deep on every thrust, hitting that spot over and over again until Angel was hard again, more than hard, desperate for it, moving with Spike, urging him on, close to coming and wanting it so badly that when Spike toppled forward like a felled tree, trapping Angel's dick between their bodies, it was more than enough and he came again with a hoarse shout, the tiny shred of his brain that wasn't wholly occupied with the very well executed casual sex they were having wondering whether or not the nomads could hear them outside.

They slumped side by side on the bedding, hard breathing tapering off into silence far quicker than any humans could have managed. Spike's head lay in the crook of Angel's arm.

"Angel?"

"Hmm."

"Just curious. You didn't actually believe that story about desert pixies, did you?"

Angel turned and pushed his face into the curve of Spike's throat, throwing an arm over his waist. "Not for a minute. But full marks for effort. That's probably the most inventive way anyone's ever gotten me into bed." He raised his face for a kiss, a sweet one that caught Spike off guard. Spike obviously hadn't been expecting it now that the main event was over. "And I was once seduced by a trio of transuding furies."

"No." Spike drew back. "Not those ones from LA? The floaty ones? The ones on the circuit?"

"That's them."

"No way," he said, his eyes wide, obviously impressed. "You lucky bastard."

"Mmmm," Angel said with a far away little smile. "Nice girls, really."

"You'd shag anything, wouldn't you?"

"Are you fishing for compliments or pushing for a fight?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Do you?"

"Twat."

Angel only smiled beatifically and blinked sleepily at him. "Too tired to fight. Can we just sleep now?"

"Knock yourself out. Sun'll be up soon and we've got eighteen hours of sunlight to get through tomorrow."

Angel's smile took on a wicked edge even as his eyelids drooped. "I wonder how we'll fill in the time..."

Spike tucked an arm behind his head and smiled up at the canvas ceiling, watching as it wafted gently in the early morning breeze.

**Author's Note:**

> <http://nomelon.livejournal.com/13979.html>


End file.
